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Tuesday Nights in 1980
An intoxicating and transcendent debut novel that follows a critic, an artist, and their shared muse as they find their way—and ultimately collide—amid the ever-evolving New York City art scene of the 1980s.
Welcome to SoHo at the onset of the eighties: a gritty, quickly gentrifying playground for artists and writers looking to make it in the big city. Among them: James Bennett, a synesthetic art critic for the New York Times whose unlikely condition enables him to describe art in profound, magical ways and Raul Engales, an exiled Argentinian painter running from his past and the Dirty War that has enveloped his country. As the two men ascend in the downtown arts scene, dual tragedies strike, and each is faced with a loss that acutely affects his relationship to life and to art.
It is not until they are inadvertently brought together by Lucy Olliason—a small town beauty and Raul’s muse—and a young orphan boy sent mysteriously from Buenos Aires that James and Raul are able to rediscover some semblance of what they’ve lost.
As inventive as Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad and as sweeping as Meg Wolitzer’s The Interestings, Tuesday Nights in 1980 boldly renders a complex moment when the meaning and nature of art is being all but upended, and New York City as a whole is reinventing itself. In risk-taking prose that is as powerful as it is playful, Molly Prentiss deftly explores the need for beauty, community, creation, and love in an ever-changing urban landscape.
Welcome to SoHo at the onset of the eighties: a gritty, quickly gentrifying playground for artists and writers looking to make it in the big city. Among them: James Bennett, a synesthetic art critic for the New York Times whose unlikely condition enables him to describe art in profound, magical ways and Raul Engales, an exiled Argentinian painter running from his past and the Dirty War that has enveloped his country. As the two men ascend in the downtown arts scene, dual tragedies strike, and each is faced with a loss that acutely affects his relationship to life and to art.
It is not until they are inadvertently brought together by Lucy Olliason—a small town beauty and Raul’s muse—and a young orphan boy sent mysteriously from Buenos Aires that James and Raul are able to rediscover some semblance of what they’ve lost.
As inventive as Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad and as sweeping as Meg Wolitzer’s The Interestings, Tuesday Nights in 1980 boldly renders a complex moment when the meaning and nature of art is being all but upended, and New York City as a whole is reinventing itself. In risk-taking prose that is as powerful as it is playful, Molly Prentiss deftly explores the need for beauty, community, creation, and love in an ever-changing urban landscape.
321 pages, Hardcover
First published April 5, 2016
218 people are currently reading
10472 people want to read
About the author
Molly Prentiss
5 books175 followersMolly Prentiss has been a Writer in Residence at The Blue Mountain Center, Vermont Studio Center and at the Workspace program the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, and received the Emerging Writer Fellowship from the Aspen Institute. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the California College of the Arts. Tuesday Nights in 1980 is her first novel. She currently lives, writes and walks around in Brooklyn, New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 643 reviews
September 2, 2025
if i five star a book by an author, i will read everything by that author until i'm down to grocery lists.
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
so count me wildly impressed that this book was written by the same person who wrote old flame, the book i recommend the most exhaustively, widely, and presumably irritatingly.
this is just not the type of book i really like—historical in the way of awkward outdated writing, populated with too many characters who are too hard to like, attempts at poignancy cutting short any plot or significance—which makes it feel like a miracle the author's next one so completely was.
bottom line: not bad! but not an absolute wonderful treasure, either.
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
so count me wildly impressed that this book was written by the same person who wrote old flame, the book i recommend the most exhaustively, widely, and presumably irritatingly.
this is just not the type of book i really like—historical in the way of awkward outdated writing, populated with too many characters who are too hard to like, attempts at poignancy cutting short any plot or significance—which makes it feel like a miracle the author's next one so completely was.
bottom line: not bad! but not an absolute wonderful treasure, either.
April 2, 2023
The story of three people from different backgrounds whose paths cross in New York City in the course of a year. Well, in truth, it’s more than that – much, much more than that.
Raul Engales is an Argentinian who left Buenos Aires in his twenties leaving his sister, Franca, and her new husband behind. He planned to forge a new life in America. He’d always painted and he dreamt of finding fame and fortune in the Big Apple. He’d been lucky enough to inherit an American passport by benefit of the fact he’d been born in the country, having been delivered prematurely to his free spirited and much travelled parents. His parents died when he and Franca were still young, leaving them to fend for themselves in the large house they inhabited. Raul and Franca were close, very close, perhaps even telepathically close. But she’d met a man and had recently married. Suddenly, this big house felt far too small for three people.
Lucy Marie Olliason loved NYC. Of course, she’d never been there - in fact she hadn’t been anywhere. She was stuck in Ketchum, Idaho but she’d seen pictures of New York in a library book she borrowed so much she practically owned it. She’d go there and she’d meet an artist – that was her dream.
James Bennett is an art critic, whose differentiating gift is to suffer from synthesia, a rare neurological condition in which two or more of the senses entwine. This enables him to pepper his reviews with a rich tapestry of colours and smells that he associates with the pieces he views. He’s becoming a significant player in the New York art world.
As the book begins, a select gathering of artists and collectors is waiting for the New Year to be chimed in. We start to meet some of the players and get a sense of how art is central to their lives. Art is everywhere here, but really this is a story of love and abandonment - abandonment most of all. The writing is superb, portraying scenes of elation, despair and deep reflection. The characterisations are rich and enticing. The atmosphere is one of excitement and promise but with undertones of darkness and threat. This is going to be some ride.
We initially follow Raul and learn something of his past. There is a section early on where he reflects on his early life in Buenos Aires and the loss of his parents. It conveys the mystery of dark rooms and a litter ridden back lane. Without actually saying it you know it’s sweaty hot and there’s city noise in the background – loud enough to hear it but far enough away for it to be unobtrusive. I can’t recall whole sentences but the atmosphere of it stays with me. It’s a place I’d like to go to. Then we meet Lucy and there’s a description of her transition from her sleepy Idaho home to the bouncing big city. The account of her first day in New York is brilliant: the street sounds, the people and the impact this all has on her. And Lucy herself, all big dreams and ‘zest’. Bring it on… I’ll have as much of this as the author can deliver.
Then James enters the picture – actually, he was there from the start but we didn’t really take any notice of him. The story picks up pace. It’s emotional and sometimes shocking. Words string together in such a way that several pages have passed before I’ve drawn a breath. There’s aching sadness but there’s humour too. There are sections that had me shaking my head at the pure ‘rightness’ of the prose.
Yes, I loved it. Is hard to believe that this a debut novel from Molly Prentiss, it feels way too accomplished for that. You really don’t want to miss this one!
My thanks to Penguin Books (UK) and NetGalley for providing an early copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Raul Engales is an Argentinian who left Buenos Aires in his twenties leaving his sister, Franca, and her new husband behind. He planned to forge a new life in America. He’d always painted and he dreamt of finding fame and fortune in the Big Apple. He’d been lucky enough to inherit an American passport by benefit of the fact he’d been born in the country, having been delivered prematurely to his free spirited and much travelled parents. His parents died when he and Franca were still young, leaving them to fend for themselves in the large house they inhabited. Raul and Franca were close, very close, perhaps even telepathically close. But she’d met a man and had recently married. Suddenly, this big house felt far too small for three people.
Lucy Marie Olliason loved NYC. Of course, she’d never been there - in fact she hadn’t been anywhere. She was stuck in Ketchum, Idaho but she’d seen pictures of New York in a library book she borrowed so much she practically owned it. She’d go there and she’d meet an artist – that was her dream.
James Bennett is an art critic, whose differentiating gift is to suffer from synthesia, a rare neurological condition in which two or more of the senses entwine. This enables him to pepper his reviews with a rich tapestry of colours and smells that he associates with the pieces he views. He’s becoming a significant player in the New York art world.
As the book begins, a select gathering of artists and collectors is waiting for the New Year to be chimed in. We start to meet some of the players and get a sense of how art is central to their lives. Art is everywhere here, but really this is a story of love and abandonment - abandonment most of all. The writing is superb, portraying scenes of elation, despair and deep reflection. The characterisations are rich and enticing. The atmosphere is one of excitement and promise but with undertones of darkness and threat. This is going to be some ride.
We initially follow Raul and learn something of his past. There is a section early on where he reflects on his early life in Buenos Aires and the loss of his parents. It conveys the mystery of dark rooms and a litter ridden back lane. Without actually saying it you know it’s sweaty hot and there’s city noise in the background – loud enough to hear it but far enough away for it to be unobtrusive. I can’t recall whole sentences but the atmosphere of it stays with me. It’s a place I’d like to go to. Then we meet Lucy and there’s a description of her transition from her sleepy Idaho home to the bouncing big city. The account of her first day in New York is brilliant: the street sounds, the people and the impact this all has on her. And Lucy herself, all big dreams and ‘zest’. Bring it on… I’ll have as much of this as the author can deliver.
Then James enters the picture – actually, he was there from the start but we didn’t really take any notice of him. The story picks up pace. It’s emotional and sometimes shocking. Words string together in such a way that several pages have passed before I’ve drawn a breath. There’s aching sadness but there’s humour too. There are sections that had me shaking my head at the pure ‘rightness’ of the prose.
Yes, I loved it. Is hard to believe that this a debut novel from Molly Prentiss, it feels way too accomplished for that. You really don’t want to miss this one!
My thanks to Penguin Books (UK) and NetGalley for providing an early copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
January 7, 2017
A wonderfully satisfying novel. Molly Prentiss knows how to craft a story!!!! Her prose has energy .... alternating delightful and hilarious and deeply affecting.
Lives collide between an art critic, a painter, and a girl from small town Idaho.
Relationships.... love, betrayal, forgiveness, and art, [Emotionally and intellectually charged], changed lives forever in Manhattan in 1980.
TERRIFIC novel!!!!!!
Lives collide between an art critic, a painter, and a girl from small town Idaho.
Relationships.... love, betrayal, forgiveness, and art, [Emotionally and intellectually charged], changed lives forever in Manhattan in 1980.
TERRIFIC novel!!!!!!
January 20, 2016
New York, on the cusp of 1980, the changing art scene of Soho before it became officially known as Soho. Following the lives of three individuals for the next year: Lucy in her early twenties coming from Idaho to experience life in a big city, James who after college has no clue what to do and whose unique ability enables him to see colors and paintings in a unique way will find himself the reigning critic of the art world and Raul, escaping the post Peron Dirty War in Argentina as well as his sisters new husband whom he despises, will find himself the art worlds new favorite. These three will find their lives entwined in many ways.
New York in all its rawness, street artists squats, art galleries, new relationships, grittiness, the many ways to create art, unfaithfulness, a young boy missing and a new young boy arriving. A tragic accident that will change all these characters and others close to them. Loved the way these characters change within one short year, realistic maybe not but possible, a year can seem short but much can happen. This book was structured in such a unique and original way. Combining the disappeared in Argentina and a young boy missing in New York, tragic for those involved regardless of where or how many, one is more than enough. James ability an added dimension to the book, the way he sees colors around things made this so interesting. Not a clichéd happy ending but an ending that shows the characters still have decisions to make, work to do, they still have to change. Julian, the young boy who will make them see what they have lost but also what they have gained.
Will everyone fall in love with this novel, these characters, maybe not, but I did. Wonderful book that I wasn't ready to end and one that I will definitely think about.
ARC from publisher.
New York in all its rawness, street artists squats, art galleries, new relationships, grittiness, the many ways to create art, unfaithfulness, a young boy missing and a new young boy arriving. A tragic accident that will change all these characters and others close to them. Loved the way these characters change within one short year, realistic maybe not but possible, a year can seem short but much can happen. This book was structured in such a unique and original way. Combining the disappeared in Argentina and a young boy missing in New York, tragic for those involved regardless of where or how many, one is more than enough. James ability an added dimension to the book, the way he sees colors around things made this so interesting. Not a clichéd happy ending but an ending that shows the characters still have decisions to make, work to do, they still have to change. Julian, the young boy who will make them see what they have lost but also what they have gained.
Will everyone fall in love with this novel, these characters, maybe not, but I did. Wonderful book that I wasn't ready to end and one that I will definitely think about.
ARC from publisher.
August 7, 2016
I really enjoyed this book and was not ready for it to end. I also loved reading about this time period in New York. I was however hoping to find out more about the three main characters in the end... we are left to wonder...
August 7, 2016
I loved this book. Oh to be in NYC in the 80's during the time when art was hip and powerful. The book tells the story of three souls just trying to make it in New York in the early 80's. The author captures so beautifully the gritty, raw, bohemian lifestyle of this time in history. The story is about three different people - Lucy, James, and Raul - and how their lives converge. The book rotates between these characters during one year of their lives and after tragic circumstances how much their lives change.
Lucy, from a small town in Idaho, coming to New York to find an artist. James, a quirky man with a condition that makes him see colors. You can say he's a bit obsessed with art and works for quite a while as an art critic. Raul, the artist, who is struggling with his past, guilt, and what is to come for him. It's quite sad at times, quite funny, and totally engaging.
I listened to this one via audio. At first, I was not sure about the narrator. But the more that I listened to it, the more I enjoyed the narration. He did a great job with this one.
I look forward to reading this one again in the future. I loved it that much.
Lucy, from a small town in Idaho, coming to New York to find an artist. James, a quirky man with a condition that makes him see colors. You can say he's a bit obsessed with art and works for quite a while as an art critic. Raul, the artist, who is struggling with his past, guilt, and what is to come for him. It's quite sad at times, quite funny, and totally engaging.
I listened to this one via audio. At first, I was not sure about the narrator. But the more that I listened to it, the more I enjoyed the narration. He did a great job with this one.
I look forward to reading this one again in the future. I loved it that much.
June 19, 2021
As close to a summer read as it gets for me, Tuesday Nights in 1980 camps its action in a time and place replete with beautiful promises, as it captures the very moment in history when the contemporary art scene of New York – its artists, its galleries, its collectors – was booming in SoHo: after the East Village, before Chelsea. (This is a topic I always enjoy reading about. An essay that depicted this slow migration with just the right amount of detail for my taste was Boom: Mad Money, Mega Dealers, and the Rise of Contemporary Art by Michael Shnayerson, which I thoroughly enjoyed in 2020.)
Tuesday Nights in 1980 makes great use of the mythical SoHo period but doesn’t abuse it, to my surprise. What’s more, while an 80s’ feel is definitely present, the narrative also avoids turning into some kind of nostalgia fest. Again, surprised, pleasantly so. I can’t say this novel proves entirely devoid of clichés but, to its defense, it happily circumvents a handful of pitfalls I thought for sure would come up along the way. If not exempt of caricature, it also at times manages subtlety. For the light read that it is, this porridge is just right, so to speak.
“You’ll have to lose everything this year in order to make something beautiful.”
Remove the saccharine treatment and you’re left with a succession of dramatic events in this book. It stands to Prentiss’s credit that she found clever ways to make her urban tale somewhat uplifting despite her tragic characters, something she achieved without the novel becoming nauseating. She also kept a tight pace that worked in this book’s favor. Honestly, I was entertained. Having said that, the author reaches for cuteness and relatability a lot – no faves of mine when heavy-handed – and even while working with a moody, sometimes rebellious cast, this book could easily have turned into the literary equivalent of a Hallmark movie. Which it avoided, if just by a hair, but really that was close. There’s a reason I consider this a light read.
I believe I loved the character of James Bennett the most. An art critic at the same time blessed and cursed with synesthesia, his career relies on his peculiar sensitivities and, in my opinion, Bennett carries the entire novel on his shoulders. A Kandinsky monograph immediately came to mind when I first became aware of the critic’s condition, but Molly Prentiss took to the scenic route on that one and gave this specific character some wonderful depth, making everything vivid and connected, well beyond his professional assessment of art exhibits. While less innovative, the rest of the cast held its ground, and collectively the main artist in this story, his faraway relatives, his current girlfriend, his gallerist and the critic’s wife brought their fair share of nonsense and humanity to the novel. Still, it’s a rare day when the critic outshines the artist, if you ask me. I’ll always remember Tuesday Nights in 1980 for it.
Other things to enjoy in this novel: an exploration of new beginnings and family ties, cameos by Haring and Basquiat, the excitement of a new painting taking on meaning for someone, the effervescence of an art world standing at the very center of the universe for a fleeting moment. Oh, and that patched up communal loft in a derelict building? I kept thinking of the de Koonings and their friends the whole time.
Molly Prentiss draws a lively, colorful picture of the New York art community circa 1980 in her book. The times are hard but also fun and prone to excess, the city is dirty and alive. The contemporary art scene makes for a fantastic backdrop as the times are changing and the air feels charged. Like one of the artists says at some point: “Fuck sunsets.”
Take this one to the beach? Better yet, take it on a weekend trip to New York.
Tuesday Nights in 1980 makes great use of the mythical SoHo period but doesn’t abuse it, to my surprise. What’s more, while an 80s’ feel is definitely present, the narrative also avoids turning into some kind of nostalgia fest. Again, surprised, pleasantly so. I can’t say this novel proves entirely devoid of clichés but, to its defense, it happily circumvents a handful of pitfalls I thought for sure would come up along the way. If not exempt of caricature, it also at times manages subtlety. For the light read that it is, this porridge is just right, so to speak.
“You’ll have to lose everything this year in order to make something beautiful.”
Remove the saccharine treatment and you’re left with a succession of dramatic events in this book. It stands to Prentiss’s credit that she found clever ways to make her urban tale somewhat uplifting despite her tragic characters, something she achieved without the novel becoming nauseating. She also kept a tight pace that worked in this book’s favor. Honestly, I was entertained. Having said that, the author reaches for cuteness and relatability a lot – no faves of mine when heavy-handed – and even while working with a moody, sometimes rebellious cast, this book could easily have turned into the literary equivalent of a Hallmark movie. Which it avoided, if just by a hair, but really that was close. There’s a reason I consider this a light read.
I believe I loved the character of James Bennett the most. An art critic at the same time blessed and cursed with synesthesia, his career relies on his peculiar sensitivities and, in my opinion, Bennett carries the entire novel on his shoulders. A Kandinsky monograph immediately came to mind when I first became aware of the critic’s condition, but Molly Prentiss took to the scenic route on that one and gave this specific character some wonderful depth, making everything vivid and connected, well beyond his professional assessment of art exhibits. While less innovative, the rest of the cast held its ground, and collectively the main artist in this story, his faraway relatives, his current girlfriend, his gallerist and the critic’s wife brought their fair share of nonsense and humanity to the novel. Still, it’s a rare day when the critic outshines the artist, if you ask me. I’ll always remember Tuesday Nights in 1980 for it.
Other things to enjoy in this novel: an exploration of new beginnings and family ties, cameos by Haring and Basquiat, the excitement of a new painting taking on meaning for someone, the effervescence of an art world standing at the very center of the universe for a fleeting moment. Oh, and that patched up communal loft in a derelict building? I kept thinking of the de Koonings and their friends the whole time.
Molly Prentiss draws a lively, colorful picture of the New York art community circa 1980 in her book. The times are hard but also fun and prone to excess, the city is dirty and alive. The contemporary art scene makes for a fantastic backdrop as the times are changing and the air feels charged. Like one of the artists says at some point: “Fuck sunsets.”
Take this one to the beach? Better yet, take it on a weekend trip to New York.
December 5, 2025
“One man would be grinning while the art lovers toasted in his name. another man would never paint again.”
― Molly Prentiss, Tuesday Nights in 1980
This book was gritty and dark and complex and touching and yet for some reason I could not get involved with it. I really don’t know why and usually with books that I am not drawn into there is a solid reason.
I think in the case of this book ,I have read lately, a lot of books on friends and cliques with many inter weaving stories so it’s possible that I am just burned out on the subject.
I also do not know much about art and I think the the more you know, the more interested in the story one might be.
What I did like very much was the depiction of life in New York City in the Eighties. I am a child of that time period so nothing makes me happier than reading books about it.
I would not call this by any means a bad book and I think most people would enjoy it but it wasn’t the right book for me at that time
― Molly Prentiss, Tuesday Nights in 1980
This book was gritty and dark and complex and touching and yet for some reason I could not get involved with it. I really don’t know why and usually with books that I am not drawn into there is a solid reason.
I think in the case of this book ,I have read lately, a lot of books on friends and cliques with many inter weaving stories so it’s possible that I am just burned out on the subject.
I also do not know much about art and I think the the more you know, the more interested in the story one might be.
What I did like very much was the depiction of life in New York City in the Eighties. I am a child of that time period so nothing makes me happier than reading books about it.
I would not call this by any means a bad book and I think most people would enjoy it but it wasn’t the right book for me at that time
May 30, 2016
An impressive debut novel, Molly Prentiss brings you right into the Soho art scene, circa 1980. Written in a unique prose, the story mainly focuses on three interesting main characters and their intersecting lives: James, an oddball art critic with synesthesia, Raul, a talented artist from Argentina and Lucy, a young, small town girl trying to find her way in NYC.
I really enjoyed reading about the changing art scene during this time, and the 1980's references that the author brought into the story-pay phones, etc. There are quite a few colorful side characters in the book that are introduced but we are never told what happened to them. This contributed to my feelings in the end that made me feel I wanted a bit more from the story. Overall, an enjoyable read especially if you have an interest in the Soho art world.
I really enjoyed reading about the changing art scene during this time, and the 1980's references that the author brought into the story-pay phones, etc. There are quite a few colorful side characters in the book that are introduced but we are never told what happened to them. This contributed to my feelings in the end that made me feel I wanted a bit more from the story. Overall, an enjoyable read especially if you have an interest in the Soho art world.
September 8, 2016
This is one of the most emotionally satisfying books I've read in a long time. The character development is deep — almost to the point of being excessive, but this is the kind of book I love most. I want to know every little thing. The characters in this book are fully drawn; they feel like real people with real fears and real failures and real hopes and real love.
Tuesday Nights in 1980 is about three people in the New York City arts scene whose lives will become inextricably linked, three people who will have to lose everything before they can discover what really matters. There's James, the peculiar art critic; Raul, the talented young painter; and Lucy, the small-town girl new to the big city.
Prentiss weaves the three storylines together seamlessly, which is not an easy task, especially for a debut writer. Novels like this one can often feel disconnected, but this one is fluid and purposeful.
And yet, strangely enough, this sense of purpose was also one of its only downfalls for me. Fate is a huge theme throughout, and I can appreciate that, but the serendipitous nature of many of the characters' interactions was the one thing that grated on me. It's the one thing that edged a little too close to the ledge of sentimentality.
But don't get me wrong: the good far (far, far) outweighed the bad.
I imagine some may find Prentiss's prose (the repetition of words and sentences, the stylized excerpts, the poetic cadence) bordering on pretentious; others, like me, will soak up every single beautiful, carefully curated word.
Hell, even as someone who grown tired of books that take place in NYC, I was intoxicated by the portrait Prentiss painted of the art scene in 1980.
This is the kind of book that will make you want to set aside an entire afternoon, because it demands (and deserves) your undivided attention. I'm so glad I allowed myself to get lost in these beautiful, flawed characters.
Tuesday Nights in 1980 is about three people in the New York City arts scene whose lives will become inextricably linked, three people who will have to lose everything before they can discover what really matters. There's James, the peculiar art critic; Raul, the talented young painter; and Lucy, the small-town girl new to the big city.
Prentiss weaves the three storylines together seamlessly, which is not an easy task, especially for a debut writer. Novels like this one can often feel disconnected, but this one is fluid and purposeful.
And yet, strangely enough, this sense of purpose was also one of its only downfalls for me. Fate is a huge theme throughout, and I can appreciate that, but the serendipitous nature of many of the characters' interactions was the one thing that grated on me. It's the one thing that edged a little too close to the ledge of sentimentality.
But don't get me wrong: the good far (far, far) outweighed the bad.
I imagine some may find Prentiss's prose (the repetition of words and sentences, the stylized excerpts, the poetic cadence) bordering on pretentious; others, like me, will soak up every single beautiful, carefully curated word.
Hell, even as someone who grown tired of books that take place in NYC, I was intoxicated by the portrait Prentiss painted of the art scene in 1980.
This is the kind of book that will make you want to set aside an entire afternoon, because it demands (and deserves) your undivided attention. I'm so glad I allowed myself to get lost in these beautiful, flawed characters.
June 26, 2020
Please read the book description given here: Tuesday Nights in 1980.
I have only heard praise for this book; I was expecting a lot. Tell me, who isn't going to be drawn to a book revolving around New York's SoHo art world of the 70s-80, synesthesia and an exiled painter running from his past and Argentina's Dirty War? If you go into a book with high expectations you are easily disappointed. I was disappointed. I'll explain why. Do remember that if I give a book two stars it is OK.
The author writes in a staccato fashion. Choppy. Often using short incomplete sentences. Exclamations, repetitions, bursts of thoughts. Bubbles. Sometimes this works, but not always. It works best in drawing James Bennett’s synesthesic visions. Vibrant colors work well, but also ideas and thoughts are thrown out at the reader. Very often I found myself opposing that stated. A painter says, “That is how you paint a face.” So I think, “Are you telling me there is only one right way to do it?” Grrr. And this leads to the second problem.
The first half of the novel is set to describe a couple of young people struggling to find their niche, their place in the art world of SoHo. They act self-assured, and of course that is because they are not. The tone is flippant, provocative, crass. Life is a joke, never to be taken seriously. Every other word is a swear word. They know everything. Drugs and sex and the search for money are the backbone of their everyday world. They say such things as, “the clouds look like tits.” I think, “Oh my, that is interesting.” I am being sarcastic of course! We are told “in the rich person’s blue room….” There just was not much for me to think about, not in terms of art or synesthesia.
Then comes an accident. Everything changes, but of course it has to. The changes that occur are predictable. You are rarely told outright but rather through small, implied hints. This I liked. You do have to pay attention to the hints and you are free to interpret the facts as you will……..but I found them rather obvious.
The ending? I say it is too . I say give me something to chew on, something imaginative, something that one wouldn’t immediately think of.
The bottom line is - this novel gave me very little. Little is done in describing Argentina’s Dirty War years. You only get a few impressions describing one person’s synesthesia. More could have been done with the burgeoning SoHo art world. I feel no attachment to any of the characters. First they were this way and then suddenly they grew up; how they moved from one stage to the other is not well shown. Too abrupt, not properly nuanced.
The audiobook narration by George Newbern captures well the author’s lines.
I have only heard praise for this book; I was expecting a lot. Tell me, who isn't going to be drawn to a book revolving around New York's SoHo art world of the 70s-80, synesthesia and an exiled painter running from his past and Argentina's Dirty War? If you go into a book with high expectations you are easily disappointed. I was disappointed. I'll explain why. Do remember that if I give a book two stars it is OK.
The author writes in a staccato fashion. Choppy. Often using short incomplete sentences. Exclamations, repetitions, bursts of thoughts. Bubbles. Sometimes this works, but not always. It works best in drawing James Bennett’s synesthesic visions. Vibrant colors work well, but also ideas and thoughts are thrown out at the reader. Very often I found myself opposing that stated. A painter says, “That is how you paint a face.” So I think, “Are you telling me there is only one right way to do it?” Grrr. And this leads to the second problem.
The first half of the novel is set to describe a couple of young people struggling to find their niche, their place in the art world of SoHo. They act self-assured, and of course that is because they are not. The tone is flippant, provocative, crass. Life is a joke, never to be taken seriously. Every other word is a swear word. They know everything. Drugs and sex and the search for money are the backbone of their everyday world. They say such things as, “the clouds look like tits.” I think, “Oh my, that is interesting.” I am being sarcastic of course! We are told “in the rich person’s blue room….” There just was not much for me to think about, not in terms of art or synesthesia.
Then comes an accident. Everything changes, but of course it has to. The changes that occur are predictable. You are rarely told outright but rather through small, implied hints. This I liked. You do have to pay attention to the hints and you are free to interpret the facts as you will……..but I found them rather obvious.
The ending? I say it is too . I say give me something to chew on, something imaginative, something that one wouldn’t immediately think of.
The bottom line is - this novel gave me very little. Little is done in describing Argentina’s Dirty War years. You only get a few impressions describing one person’s synesthesia. More could have been done with the burgeoning SoHo art world. I feel no attachment to any of the characters. First they were this way and then suddenly they grew up; how they moved from one stage to the other is not well shown. Too abrupt, not properly nuanced.
The audiobook narration by George Newbern captures well the author’s lines.
January 22, 2018
By page 25, I was already in love with Tuesday Nights in 1980. It has everything I crave in a book: beautiful, smart writing, characters I want to know and a fascinating setting- the art world in 1980 New York City. Amazingly, it did not disappoint me as I read on. It engaged me emotionally and intellectually and kept surprising me. I loved, loved this novel!
February 3, 2023
A strange powerful novel; but then perhaps any novel that provokes five stars out of this jaded reviewer must be both strange and powerful.
Primarily set in the New York art scene in 1980; a time when a person could survive on a part time job and nourish a creative life in the festering ruins of the city. Some well-known names are mentioned, obliquely (Warhol, Keith Haring, most often Basquiat and references to "Samo"). Lately, I've been researching the era through the prismatic/charismatic David Wojnarowicz, but there was nothing about him. There is a slight foreshadowing of AIDS, but overall this novel is focused and centred on strictly heterosexual lifestyles.
One of the main characters, a writer/art critic, experiences synesthesia, and I found that fascinating. Synesthesia can be experienced in various ways and to different degrees; so any one person only might experience one or two sensory flourishes. The James character here has a rich, complex, expression, blurry and unpredictable with emotion, intuition, and aspiration. The metaphor was lush, but somehow never felt overdone. Perhaps it's the art world context that provides this novel so much space to explode on the page without creating a mess.
"When is a portrait finished?" is a potent theme. Does white space enhance or detract from the portrayal? When does art finish, and where does life begin? Is a flaw, or damage, valuable? Can a slogan on a matchbook cover be reframed and displayed in a gallery? Does an artist have to create art? Does producing art make you an artist?
Ultimately, there are no answers and we tire of questioning the inevitable. "Does the ending of the project mean the stripping of some kind of shield?" A year is a year, it is both a container and a possibility, it creates and destroys, it lives and it dies. All we can say is “This is the way it peaks on the brush."
Primarily set in the New York art scene in 1980; a time when a person could survive on a part time job and nourish a creative life in the festering ruins of the city. Some well-known names are mentioned, obliquely (Warhol, Keith Haring, most often Basquiat and references to "Samo"). Lately, I've been researching the era through the prismatic/charismatic David Wojnarowicz, but there was nothing about him. There is a slight foreshadowing of AIDS, but overall this novel is focused and centred on strictly heterosexual lifestyles.
One of the main characters, a writer/art critic, experiences synesthesia, and I found that fascinating. Synesthesia can be experienced in various ways and to different degrees; so any one person only might experience one or two sensory flourishes. The James character here has a rich, complex, expression, blurry and unpredictable with emotion, intuition, and aspiration. The metaphor was lush, but somehow never felt overdone. Perhaps it's the art world context that provides this novel so much space to explode on the page without creating a mess.
"When is a portrait finished?" is a potent theme. Does white space enhance or detract from the portrayal? When does art finish, and where does life begin? Is a flaw, or damage, valuable? Can a slogan on a matchbook cover be reframed and displayed in a gallery? Does an artist have to create art? Does producing art make you an artist?
Ultimately, there are no answers and we tire of questioning the inevitable. "Does the ending of the project mean the stripping of some kind of shield?" A year is a year, it is both a container and a possibility, it creates and destroys, it lives and it dies. All we can say is “This is the way it peaks on the brush."
February 7, 2017
3.5 Stars
January 1, 2016
A debut well worth looking forward to more people being able to read next year. Some of the most vibrant and expressive writing about art and the art scene I've ever read.
May 26, 2016
There is some narrative inventiveness here, but to what end?
My favorite part is the late conversation between Marge and James about why James gets to be The Genius and Marge has to do all of the shitty work of their lives. That was great. Why was the whole book not about that, really calling into question the purpose of Art Success? At one point Raul talks about how he has no ideas, he just paints until a subject appears, and James is all BUT THAT IS TRUE PAINTING, ASSOCIATIONAL THINKING! Is that what actual artists of the NYC 1980s believed? Did Keith Haring have no ideas? Why are there no actual queer characters in this depiction of the NYC art scene of the 1980s, aside from a quick appearance by a lesbian gallerist early on and a short scene with a trans lady named Devereux, who seems to basically exist so she can talk about how she and the main cis lady character Lucy are True Friends before vanishing into a miasma of sparkle? (I guess Keith Haring shows up a couple of times spraypainting dicks on things in the background?)
It is just kind of baffling to me to write a whole book about NYC in the 1980s with no queer main characters. Why would you do that? That seems actually very hard to do! And it's a pretty brisk book, like I had an okay time reading it and all and I like how the author moves her characters around, sets up weird hooks to pick up later (the parrot, cakes, the red/yellow/blue thing), but what was actually the purpose of this book?
What did I learn, actually, about synaesthesia as experience?
What did I learn about the art world?
What did I learn about love triangles among straight folks?
What did I learn about New York, besides that it is Glamorous yet also Gritty?
What did I learn about painting and why people do it? (There's a good moment when Raul talks about painting people because he had no people in his life, which is maybe mercifully left to stand on its own.)
What did I learn about gentrification, besides that it happens?
What did I learn about the Dirty War, besides that people died?
Why did the author want to write this story?
What did she learn in the course of writing it? What did any of the characters actually learn? Raul starts out as a painter and ends up as a painter. James sells off his art collection, which means what? Is the professional art world *evil*? Is minor char Jamie correct or not correct in wanting to keep her cool matchbook project to herself? Why does any of this even happen?
Do some people primarily exist for other people to feed on, to convert into Imagery?
Why does the narrative condemn Lucy so hard at the end for bleaching her hair and having sex? Is New York only for Men of Genius? What did she actually do wrong? Is it that she's not a Man of Genius like James or Raul (or, we are promised in the epilogue, young orphaned Julian?)
What, actually, do any of these characters believe or feel about one another? Why does Raul form this bromance with James? Why does Marge stay with James? Why is Lucy into Raul? Why is Raul into Lucy (besides the portentous fact that SHE IS THE AMERICAN DREAM???) Do these characters like one another, in a way distinct from James thinking Marge is "red" and Raul thinking James makes him feel "warm"?
What does it mean to like another person?
Is there an exit to the prison of our own minds?
Can we ever truly speak to one another in a way that is not fundamentally about our glorifying ourselves???
These questions and more, alas, went unresolved for me in this novel. And I just kind of want a novel (esp a debut novel!) to feel as if someone is grappling with some kind of complicated questions, things that have no resolutions. This didn't feel like that. It felt like a formal exercise in Plot Manipulation and Genius Porn, coping with awful mutilations and tragedies that have no significance outside of Cruel Fate (yet that ultimately don't seem to have consequences?), all projected against a glamorous historical setting that is clearly intensely researched, yet that seems to miss the point of what everyone I know intuitively thinks of re: NYC art scene of the 1980s.
By which I mean Nan Goldin gets praised, while trans women are reduced to two scenes: the "men dressed as ladies [with] drinks as stiff as the bulges in the ladies' underwear," and a character named Devereux who seems as if she was Maybe More Prominent In a Previous Draft and who seems to exist solely to confirm that Lucy has a friend who is trans ("'Anything for a friend of a friend like you,' Devereux said, prancing in her hot pants back to her stool, holding the doughnut platter like a cocktail waitress might, on the tips of her fingers, over her big shoulder.") I do not think this is intended ironically. I think the author was trying to do a good job.
I think this review is too mean but I'm okay with that.
My favorite part is the late conversation between Marge and James about why James gets to be The Genius and Marge has to do all of the shitty work of their lives. That was great. Why was the whole book not about that, really calling into question the purpose of Art Success? At one point Raul talks about how he has no ideas, he just paints until a subject appears, and James is all BUT THAT IS TRUE PAINTING, ASSOCIATIONAL THINKING! Is that what actual artists of the NYC 1980s believed? Did Keith Haring have no ideas? Why are there no actual queer characters in this depiction of the NYC art scene of the 1980s, aside from a quick appearance by a lesbian gallerist early on and a short scene with a trans lady named Devereux, who seems to basically exist so she can talk about how she and the main cis lady character Lucy are True Friends before vanishing into a miasma of sparkle? (I guess Keith Haring shows up a couple of times spraypainting dicks on things in the background?)
It is just kind of baffling to me to write a whole book about NYC in the 1980s with no queer main characters. Why would you do that? That seems actually very hard to do! And it's a pretty brisk book, like I had an okay time reading it and all and I like how the author moves her characters around, sets up weird hooks to pick up later (the parrot, cakes, the red/yellow/blue thing), but what was actually the purpose of this book?
What did I learn, actually, about synaesthesia as experience?
What did I learn about the art world?
What did I learn about love triangles among straight folks?
What did I learn about New York, besides that it is Glamorous yet also Gritty?
What did I learn about painting and why people do it? (There's a good moment when Raul talks about painting people because he had no people in his life, which is maybe mercifully left to stand on its own.)
What did I learn about gentrification, besides that it happens?
What did I learn about the Dirty War, besides that people died?
Why did the author want to write this story?
What did she learn in the course of writing it? What did any of the characters actually learn? Raul starts out as a painter and ends up as a painter. James sells off his art collection, which means what? Is the professional art world *evil*? Is minor char Jamie correct or not correct in wanting to keep her cool matchbook project to herself? Why does any of this even happen?
Do some people primarily exist for other people to feed on, to convert into Imagery?
Why does the narrative condemn Lucy so hard at the end for bleaching her hair and having sex? Is New York only for Men of Genius? What did she actually do wrong? Is it that she's not a Man of Genius like James or Raul (or, we are promised in the epilogue, young orphaned Julian?)
What, actually, do any of these characters believe or feel about one another? Why does Raul form this bromance with James? Why does Marge stay with James? Why is Lucy into Raul? Why is Raul into Lucy (besides the portentous fact that SHE IS THE AMERICAN DREAM???) Do these characters like one another, in a way distinct from James thinking Marge is "red" and Raul thinking James makes him feel "warm"?
What does it mean to like another person?
Is there an exit to the prison of our own minds?
Can we ever truly speak to one another in a way that is not fundamentally about our glorifying ourselves???
These questions and more, alas, went unresolved for me in this novel. And I just kind of want a novel (esp a debut novel!) to feel as if someone is grappling with some kind of complicated questions, things that have no resolutions. This didn't feel like that. It felt like a formal exercise in Plot Manipulation and Genius Porn, coping with awful mutilations and tragedies that have no significance outside of Cruel Fate (yet that ultimately don't seem to have consequences?), all projected against a glamorous historical setting that is clearly intensely researched, yet that seems to miss the point of what everyone I know intuitively thinks of re: NYC art scene of the 1980s.
By which I mean Nan Goldin gets praised, while trans women are reduced to two scenes: the "men dressed as ladies [with] drinks as stiff as the bulges in the ladies' underwear," and a character named Devereux who seems as if she was Maybe More Prominent In a Previous Draft and who seems to exist solely to confirm that Lucy has a friend who is trans ("'Anything for a friend of a friend like you,' Devereux said, prancing in her hot pants back to her stool, holding the doughnut platter like a cocktail waitress might, on the tips of her fingers, over her big shoulder.") I do not think this is intended ironically. I think the author was trying to do a good job.
I think this review is too mean but I'm okay with that.
July 14, 2017
How many books have I read that are set in New York? I’ve lost count, but I know there are many of them. And how many books have I read that trace the different lives of a group of people as their stories cross and intermingle? As I was reading this one, I was put in mind of Why We Came to the City, City on Fire, The Interestings. Even A Visit from the Goon Squad and The Goldfinch got a look in. And I know there are many others.
It’s a brave person who tells us a story of a group of friends or intersecting lives in New York.
To her credit, Molly Prentiss often writes with sparkle and humour and it’s enough to hold your interest all the way through. But I have to confess that’s about all it does, at least for me. I wasn’t excited and I was thinking that nearly all of the books mentioned above, plus several of the ones I haven’t mentioned (Chronic City?) are more to my taste. (If you are interested to know, I loved all the ones I’ve mentioned with the exception of The Interestings which was fine but not too exciting).
Tuesday Nights… follows three people whose lives intersect through 1980. James is an art critic. His synesthesia means that the articles he writes have a different take and he becomes renowned until circumstances conspire to take away his "gift". His art collection is the envy of all. Raul is an artist who flees Argentina, leaving behind his sister (a key element that introduces the story and becomes important later), and settles in New York. Raul's paintings help James recover from his loss, until Raul himself suffers an (overly?) dramatic loss. Lucy heads to the city from Idaho in search of excitement and in search of herself. She finds Raul and the she finds James. Gradually, all three lives converge against a backdrop of the New York art scene in 1980.
Sometimes the coincidences that drive the plot forward can seem a bit forced.
I found some of the writing in this distracting. There was a very obvious typo near the start: "He always had trouble gauging the appropriate decimal at which to speak at parties." I sincerely hope that was simply an editing error and decimal was supposed to be decibel. However, even if you assume that, I find this a very clumsy phrase. Later on we get ...she's got more important shit to worry about at the very moment. Again, perhaps the "the" is supposed to be a "this", but, either way, it jars.
But these are perhaps just editing errors. More worrying is the type of descriptive writing that can put the phrase "she watermeloned and heliumed on top of him" into a sex scene. Firstly, it’s ridiculous and not at all sexy. Secondly, I have no idea what it means!
But then we can get sentences like "The beautiful horrors of New York, he thought as he took a big swig from the bottle. And I am among them." It might be the context of the book at that point, but I thought this was a wonderful phrase.
A mixed bag for me. I enjoyed reading it overall, but if I wanted to read a book about New York, there are many other books I would choose before this one.
It’s a brave person who tells us a story of a group of friends or intersecting lives in New York.
To her credit, Molly Prentiss often writes with sparkle and humour and it’s enough to hold your interest all the way through. But I have to confess that’s about all it does, at least for me. I wasn’t excited and I was thinking that nearly all of the books mentioned above, plus several of the ones I haven’t mentioned (Chronic City?) are more to my taste. (If you are interested to know, I loved all the ones I’ve mentioned with the exception of The Interestings which was fine but not too exciting).
Tuesday Nights… follows three people whose lives intersect through 1980. James is an art critic. His synesthesia means that the articles he writes have a different take and he becomes renowned until circumstances conspire to take away his "gift". His art collection is the envy of all. Raul is an artist who flees Argentina, leaving behind his sister (a key element that introduces the story and becomes important later), and settles in New York. Raul's paintings help James recover from his loss, until Raul himself suffers an (overly?) dramatic loss. Lucy heads to the city from Idaho in search of excitement and in search of herself. She finds Raul and the she finds James. Gradually, all three lives converge against a backdrop of the New York art scene in 1980.
Sometimes the coincidences that drive the plot forward can seem a bit forced.
I found some of the writing in this distracting. There was a very obvious typo near the start: "He always had trouble gauging the appropriate decimal at which to speak at parties." I sincerely hope that was simply an editing error and decimal was supposed to be decibel. However, even if you assume that, I find this a very clumsy phrase. Later on we get ...she's got more important shit to worry about at the very moment. Again, perhaps the "the" is supposed to be a "this", but, either way, it jars.
But these are perhaps just editing errors. More worrying is the type of descriptive writing that can put the phrase "she watermeloned and heliumed on top of him" into a sex scene. Firstly, it’s ridiculous and not at all sexy. Secondly, I have no idea what it means!
But then we can get sentences like "The beautiful horrors of New York, he thought as he took a big swig from the bottle. And I am among them." It might be the context of the book at that point, but I thought this was a wonderful phrase.
A mixed bag for me. I enjoyed reading it overall, but if I wanted to read a book about New York, there are many other books I would choose before this one.
February 7, 2016
It’s the start of the Reagan era in NYC, when artists bump up against the crass consumerism of art buyers, and bohemians are still embracing the run-down factory-like buildings where they party like rock stars and live for their art. Gentrification is not yet on the horizon. New York City, with its dirty streets, glitzy lights, buzzing art scene, porn shops, and high crime, held purpose and promise to the young and imaginative. It was gritty, grand and glamorous, a city of big hair and even bigger dreams.
Three lives are inextricably linked by art and passion. Raul Engales, an up and coming talented painter, has escaped the Dirty War in Argentina, but not without the guilt of leaving his sister behind. James Bennett, a socially inept and brilliant art critic, derives his talent from a condition of synesthesia, where people radiate colors, and words have scents and tastes, “where an image was manufactured into a bodily sensation, where applesauce tasted like sadness and winter was the color blue….” Lucy is a young and free-spirited woman from the toneless suburbs of Ketchum, Idaho, lured to New York by a stranded postcard, and who becomes Raul’s muse and lover.
There’s no question that the characters here are exquisitely, extravagantly defined; they pop out of the pages like a David Hockney painting. They swirl around each other in drafty hovels, sparkling galleries, and in the streets and stairwells that smelled of urine, paint, and cigarettes. Moreover, New York is a character in itself. Lucy, Raul, and James emerge as the primary protagonists, although I felt that was done by attrition; some of the secondary (and, in some cases, more interesting) characters faded over time.
My biggest complaint was that the breezy prose was often too fluttery for the gravitas of the story. I think it was meant to underscore depth by contrast, but it zipped in several directions and often meandered and tread the same porous ground of artist torment and creativity. The themes of loss and exile were poignant, but it lacked strong narrative scaffolding. A chunk of the ending implied action outside the purview of the reader, which was a big turn-off. However, as a debut novel, it shows solid promise. Molly Prentiss has a gift for strong characterizations and a talent for choosing words. I look forward to her next novel, as I expect the author will overcome her novice hurdles.
Three lives are inextricably linked by art and passion. Raul Engales, an up and coming talented painter, has escaped the Dirty War in Argentina, but not without the guilt of leaving his sister behind. James Bennett, a socially inept and brilliant art critic, derives his talent from a condition of synesthesia, where people radiate colors, and words have scents and tastes, “where an image was manufactured into a bodily sensation, where applesauce tasted like sadness and winter was the color blue….” Lucy is a young and free-spirited woman from the toneless suburbs of Ketchum, Idaho, lured to New York by a stranded postcard, and who becomes Raul’s muse and lover.
There’s no question that the characters here are exquisitely, extravagantly defined; they pop out of the pages like a David Hockney painting. They swirl around each other in drafty hovels, sparkling galleries, and in the streets and stairwells that smelled of urine, paint, and cigarettes. Moreover, New York is a character in itself. Lucy, Raul, and James emerge as the primary protagonists, although I felt that was done by attrition; some of the secondary (and, in some cases, more interesting) characters faded over time.
My biggest complaint was that the breezy prose was often too fluttery for the gravitas of the story. I think it was meant to underscore depth by contrast, but it zipped in several directions and often meandered and tread the same porous ground of artist torment and creativity. The themes of loss and exile were poignant, but it lacked strong narrative scaffolding. A chunk of the ending implied action outside the purview of the reader, which was a big turn-off. However, as a debut novel, it shows solid promise. Molly Prentiss has a gift for strong characterizations and a talent for choosing words. I look forward to her next novel, as I expect the author will overcome her novice hurdles.
February 3, 2023
More like a 3.5, but not quite a 4 star read. Although it moved quickly ( I finished it in 2 days)), I can't say it was particularly involving. Part of the problem for me is that it simply isn't enough to name check Basquiat and Haring to render 1980 in a realistic fashion; it's not so much false as just superficial.
Prentiss was obviously not even born in 1980, so her musings about the art world and NYC all seem second hand. And I am not quite sure how the Argentinian subplot fits in. My other main complaint is (SPOILER ALERT), it seems highly improbable and implausible that anyone could be so obtuse as to actually sever their own hand off with a paper cutter, which rendered the whole thing a bit nonsensical.
Prentiss was obviously not even born in 1980, so her musings about the art world and NYC all seem second hand. And I am not quite sure how the Argentinian subplot fits in. My other main complaint is (SPOILER ALERT), it seems highly improbable and implausible that anyone could be so obtuse as to actually sever their own hand off with a paper cutter, which rendered the whole thing a bit nonsensical.
August 20, 2016
I was completely blown away by this book (I don't think I've ever started a review like that before). But I was. I was blown away because it was about art (which I love), it put the reader smack dab into Manhattan in the year 1980, and it was extremely well written. It's essentially about three different characters whose lives intersect basically through their creation, appreciation and criticism of art.
One is an artist from Argentina who left his beloved sister behind, one is a beautiful young woman from Idaho who has a love for art and comes to New York City to try to experience it, and one is an art critic for the New York Times who is endowed with the gift (or curse) of synethesia and because of it writes some unusual reviews of art. Their worlds intertwine in ways that are best left to discover by reading the book, but the author does a really good job of it (did I say that she is a great writer and that this book is really well written).
The author covers the New York art scene of the late 70s, early 80s, mixing fictional and real artists into the mix. One of the main themes explored is the creation of art, the life of the artist, and how to deal with creating it and not selling out to make money from it, or how to do both. She also explores love between brother and sister and between lovers and how we deal with temptation. And through all this, she tells a really good story, with wonderful use of foreshadowing (did I mention that she's a really good writer).
The number one thing that came through for me was how wise the author is. And this comes through so clearly throughout the book in her research, in her storytelling and in the choices she makes. This book seemed very well organized and never got off the track for me. Although all of the characters have major flaws, I loved them all and really felt for them. I look so forward to reading her next book.
One is an artist from Argentina who left his beloved sister behind, one is a beautiful young woman from Idaho who has a love for art and comes to New York City to try to experience it, and one is an art critic for the New York Times who is endowed with the gift (or curse) of synethesia and because of it writes some unusual reviews of art. Their worlds intertwine in ways that are best left to discover by reading the book, but the author does a really good job of it (did I say that she is a great writer and that this book is really well written).
The author covers the New York art scene of the late 70s, early 80s, mixing fictional and real artists into the mix. One of the main themes explored is the creation of art, the life of the artist, and how to deal with creating it and not selling out to make money from it, or how to do both. She also explores love between brother and sister and between lovers and how we deal with temptation. And through all this, she tells a really good story, with wonderful use of foreshadowing (did I mention that she's a really good writer).
The number one thing that came through for me was how wise the author is. And this comes through so clearly throughout the book in her research, in her storytelling and in the choices she makes. This book seemed very well organized and never got off the track for me. Although all of the characters have major flaws, I loved them all and really felt for them. I look so forward to reading her next book.
October 7, 2022
Set in the arts community of New York City in 1980, this book weaves together the events in the lives of three characters. James Bennett is an art critic who was treated as an outcast in his youth. Raul Engales is an orphaned immigrant artist whose sister still resides in Argentina. Lucy Olliason has just moved to the big city from her small town to get away from her parents and seek her own path. They are tied together by their love of art and a desire to escape the past.
I have mixed feelings about this book. I liked the character-driven storyline, but it gets a little predictable and melodramatic when a love triangle develops. I generally enjoy books that feature art, but the connection between art and the artist is missing here. Art, though purportedly central to their lives, seems more like a plot device, as does the child who appears toward the end.
I have mixed feelings about this book. I liked the character-driven storyline, but it gets a little predictable and melodramatic when a love triangle develops. I generally enjoy books that feature art, but the connection between art and the artist is missing here. Art, though purportedly central to their lives, seems more like a plot device, as does the child who appears toward the end.
April 9, 2016
I'm not a good book reviewer. I always want to review a book, but then I get that weird feeling of who am I to question a published book and/or tell someone else whether or not they should read it. Especially people I don't know that well and/or know their reading tastes. But I thought I'd share about this one. I hovered between 4 & 5 stars. It was serendipitous that I stumbled across this book because I keep bumping into a lot of things surrounding art and synesthesia lately. So that may be clouding my judgement. I felt that I should probably give it 5, but I'm one of those crazy people who feels like 5 is the most perfect book ever. Then I realize that thinking that, in itself is weird, and that I should just bite the bullet and give it a 5 because it is a debut book and I'm already disappointed that there isn't another book of hers to read, so I should just probably stop being stupid and give it a 5.
Powell's shared a great essay from Molly Prentiss about quitting. I'm glad she didn't quit and that she pushed through to write the book she did. Although now I'm wondering about all of the words she did cut and would love to know about the stories on the cutting room floor. :) Funny enough though... one sentence in that whole essay almost put me off reading the book. She talks about how someone read a chapter of the book and made a reference to Sex and the City. Because of that, I thought that it might be a cheesy book. I'm so glad that I didn't let that deter me from reading it because I can't quite imagine how that connection was made.
For some reason I can't quite put my finger on at the moment, the writing almost felt like a star-crossed love affair between Donna Tartt's Goldfinch (something more than the art) and the writing of Lauren Beukes (maybe the mystical dreaminess or happenstance?). I don't really know... but it is a positive for me either way.
I picked this up from the library yesterday and read it almost straight through. It was one of the best books I've read in awhile. It had a definite rhythm and pulse, and it was so full of densely-rich imagery and prose, it was almost overwhelming at times. It often felt like a poem that had been stretched out over several hundred pages. I always enjoy books that leave me wanting more, and this one definitely did. I wanted to find out what the characters would do next. But the ending didn't leave me angry like when you read some books and realize that the author didn't have a way to come to a tidy conclusion so they just lop it off and end and you're like What?!?!. Instead it feels like it is a glimpse into lives that you come into contact with for a little while, but then they go on without you and you'll find yourself wondering about them from time to time.
It is one of those books where you hope they make a movie out of it, but at the same time, you hope they don't because you know that the movie wouldn't be as good/rich as the book and you don't want the experience ruined.
I'm sure there are people who will have negatives to say about the book. I am not one of those people who look for them. There were a couple of spots where longer comma-rich sentences were rough and pulled me out of the trance of the stories, but they were few and far between.
I think that you will definitely hear good things about this book, and I'm looking forward to her next novel already.
Powell's shared a great essay from Molly Prentiss about quitting. I'm glad she didn't quit and that she pushed through to write the book she did. Although now I'm wondering about all of the words she did cut and would love to know about the stories on the cutting room floor. :) Funny enough though... one sentence in that whole essay almost put me off reading the book. She talks about how someone read a chapter of the book and made a reference to Sex and the City. Because of that, I thought that it might be a cheesy book. I'm so glad that I didn't let that deter me from reading it because I can't quite imagine how that connection was made.
For some reason I can't quite put my finger on at the moment, the writing almost felt like a star-crossed love affair between Donna Tartt's Goldfinch (something more than the art) and the writing of Lauren Beukes (maybe the mystical dreaminess or happenstance?). I don't really know... but it is a positive for me either way.
I picked this up from the library yesterday and read it almost straight through. It was one of the best books I've read in awhile. It had a definite rhythm and pulse, and it was so full of densely-rich imagery and prose, it was almost overwhelming at times. It often felt like a poem that had been stretched out over several hundred pages. I always enjoy books that leave me wanting more, and this one definitely did. I wanted to find out what the characters would do next. But the ending didn't leave me angry like when you read some books and realize that the author didn't have a way to come to a tidy conclusion so they just lop it off and end and you're like What?!?!. Instead it feels like it is a glimpse into lives that you come into contact with for a little while, but then they go on without you and you'll find yourself wondering about them from time to time.
It is one of those books where you hope they make a movie out of it, but at the same time, you hope they don't because you know that the movie wouldn't be as good/rich as the book and you don't want the experience ruined.
I'm sure there are people who will have negatives to say about the book. I am not one of those people who look for them. There were a couple of spots where longer comma-rich sentences were rough and pulled me out of the trance of the stories, but they were few and far between.
I think that you will definitely hear good things about this book, and I'm looking forward to her next novel already.
February 4, 2019
I was so disappointed by this book, I'm not even sure where to start. I was positively giddy to begin to read it, and yet struggled to finish before my library loan was up. I'm at a complete loss as to how an author can take a time and place as rich as New York in 1980 and just completely miss the mark. If you're going to write about a particular time and a particular place, a bit of research never hurts. Yes, go on and drop all the names you like, but having a few facts under your belt never hurt. For example: the first articles about the "mysterious virus" plaguing NYC's LGBT population were not published until the fall of 1981, when they counted sufferers at just over a small dozen (with most already deceased) so it's highly unlikely a character would encounter an entire ward of them in Saint Vincent's in the late winter of 1980. And, fun fact - most neurological conditions don't mysteriously disappear with a case of the sads.
Further, I am so beyond done and over the narrative of the pretty, fragile blonde girl coming to the big city to find herself and adventure without actually doing anything worthwhile (check out my review of Sweetbitter if you want to know just HOW over this I am). She mopes! She is helpless! She falls in love and gets hurt and has sex and drinks Jim Beam because it's interesting, but she has no life other than to serve as a romantic interest (to put it politely) to a few of the poorly drawn male characters in the book. And do not even GET me started on the wife of another main character, a tortured "art critic," who despite initially having dreams and goals toward art of her own, gives up because she wants a "tiny baby"? (Really? A tiny baby? Who even talks like this?) She follows him around, mops up his messes and forgives him for unfathomable reasons. It's frustrating enough when male authors trap their female characters in these corners, but it's enraging when a female author does it. The women in this book fall into the limited archetypes of Maid, Mother and Crone, and not one does any work to break out of those holes.
What was the point, exactly, to make a character hail from Argentina, talk about Peron's death and Pinochet's reign, if it was only to serve up the most Hallmark Hall of Fame of "twists"? Why build up all of these pieces of the art world and a roommate for Blandy the Blonde that sound interesting, but ultimately lead to nowhere? I feel like these were designed as sections to read aloud in an MFA writing class, but little to no thought was given to the overall arc that the characters or the plot would ultimately deal with. If the author had, she probably would have realized that Jonathan Larson did this first, did it better. So bust out your copy of the RENT soundtrack and call it a day - 525,600 minutes may measure a year, but this book about 1980 isn't worth singing about.
Further, I am so beyond done and over the narrative of the pretty, fragile blonde girl coming to the big city to find herself and adventure without actually doing anything worthwhile (check out my review of Sweetbitter if you want to know just HOW over this I am). She mopes! She is helpless! She falls in love and gets hurt and has sex and drinks Jim Beam because it's interesting, but she has no life other than to serve as a romantic interest (to put it politely) to a few of the poorly drawn male characters in the book. And do not even GET me started on the wife of another main character, a tortured "art critic," who despite initially having dreams and goals toward art of her own, gives up because she wants a "tiny baby"? (Really? A tiny baby? Who even talks like this?) She follows him around, mops up his messes and forgives him for unfathomable reasons. It's frustrating enough when male authors trap their female characters in these corners, but it's enraging when a female author does it. The women in this book fall into the limited archetypes of Maid, Mother and Crone, and not one does any work to break out of those holes.
What was the point, exactly, to make a character hail from Argentina, talk about Peron's death and Pinochet's reign, if it was only to serve up the most Hallmark Hall of Fame of "twists"? Why build up all of these pieces of the art world and a roommate for Blandy the Blonde that sound interesting, but ultimately lead to nowhere? I feel like these were designed as sections to read aloud in an MFA writing class, but little to no thought was given to the overall arc that the characters or the plot would ultimately deal with. If the author had, she probably would have realized that Jonathan Larson did this first, did it better. So bust out your copy of the RENT soundtrack and call it a day - 525,600 minutes may measure a year, but this book about 1980 isn't worth singing about.
December 31, 2016
This was a neat and consistently surprising book, which is a thing I love. Each time I was like, oh, okay, I understand the story that I'm reading, she did a switch or the plot made a zag or a character made an unexpected decision and we were zooming off in another direction.
But also, I think she tried to do too much. Like here: This is a story of a synesthete, a dude who can see smells and hear colors and whatnot. He's an art critic and this is the story of his art criticry and also his lopsided marriage and also his losing / regaining / re-losing / re-regaining of his abilities based on life swirling around him and the good and bad choices he makes within it. But also: This is the story of a brash and emotionally shut-off painter, and his love life and a horrible accident and his losing and then regaining his will to live and love and make art. And also: This is a story of New York City in its wild renegade 1980s thrum, with squatters and bonkers artists and missing children and darkness and light and drama. And also: This is the story of an Argentina gone all fucked up, with a government that disappears people and the chances of escape getting thinner and more unrealistic and terrifying by the day.
So, I mean, it's a lot.
The threads are all there. The plot moves briskly, the writing is lovely, the characters are good (although some, of course, far more dimensional than others), the scene-setting is immersive. But it didn't quite manage to floor me, or truly suck me in, and while I expect to remember some especially poignant or lush snippets, I don't think it will stick with me for all that long.
But also, I think she tried to do too much. Like here: This is a story of a synesthete, a dude who can see smells and hear colors and whatnot. He's an art critic and this is the story of his art criticry and also his lopsided marriage and also his losing / regaining / re-losing / re-regaining of his abilities based on life swirling around him and the good and bad choices he makes within it. But also: This is the story of a brash and emotionally shut-off painter, and his love life and a horrible accident and his losing and then regaining his will to live and love and make art. And also: This is a story of New York City in its wild renegade 1980s thrum, with squatters and bonkers artists and missing children and darkness and light and drama. And also: This is the story of an Argentina gone all fucked up, with a government that disappears people and the chances of escape getting thinner and more unrealistic and terrifying by the day.
So, I mean, it's a lot.
The threads are all there. The plot moves briskly, the writing is lovely, the characters are good (although some, of course, far more dimensional than others), the scene-setting is immersive. But it didn't quite manage to floor me, or truly suck me in, and while I expect to remember some especially poignant or lush snippets, I don't think it will stick with me for all that long.
January 20, 2018
Prentiss is ambitious with her first novel, crafting a complex, deeply interwoven narrative. The book spans countries and storylines, all the while offering a glimpse into the art scene in New York in 1980.
The story is built around a cast of fantastic supporting characters and 3 central characters: James, a synaesthetic and slightly eccentric art critic, Lucy, a small town girl who recently moved to New York, and Raul, a talented painter. These three characters will ultimately clash, a confluence of art and family. The story is so engaging that I never found myself seeking out the connections ahead of time, but rather enjoyed the progression of plot without expectation.
Prentiss’ prose is the sort that I soak up; witty, bold, and confident. Her characters are well drawn, each suffering a loss of great magnitude before ultimately finding new purpose. The character development is a driving force, moving the plot along effortlessly.
There’s a lot going on in this story, which is really its only downfall - I wasn’t ready to close the book on certain characters. I rarely say this, but this book could have been 100 pages longer and I’d be no less engrossed.
The story is built around a cast of fantastic supporting characters and 3 central characters: James, a synaesthetic and slightly eccentric art critic, Lucy, a small town girl who recently moved to New York, and Raul, a talented painter. These three characters will ultimately clash, a confluence of art and family. The story is so engaging that I never found myself seeking out the connections ahead of time, but rather enjoyed the progression of plot without expectation.
Prentiss’ prose is the sort that I soak up; witty, bold, and confident. Her characters are well drawn, each suffering a loss of great magnitude before ultimately finding new purpose. The character development is a driving force, moving the plot along effortlessly.
There’s a lot going on in this story, which is really its only downfall - I wasn’t ready to close the book on certain characters. I rarely say this, but this book could have been 100 pages longer and I’d be no less engrossed.
March 29, 2016
Either the author or I misunderstand the possible manifestations of synesthesia (hint: I'm pretty sure it's her). What starts as the nuanced ability to see art as colors and thereby interpret feeling and composition on a more subconscious level leads to seeing colors on people. The evolution of the character's synesthesia goes to more of a mystical aura-reading place that I think is outside the realm of an actual synesthetic. I think I could roll with this if it were framed as more of a magical realism element, but it is presented here is straight reality. This distraction aside, I found the characters and setting overall compelling. Both artist and critic come together as they both must navigate changes in life directions. This book follows in the footsteps of The Goldfinch, City on Fire, and Visit From the Goon Squad and solidly earns an also-ran 3 stars.
June 19, 2016
I am ALWAYS up for a novel set in 80s New York amongst the art world. Always. And this was fine - easy to read, lots about art, plotty. I was interested enough to read it in two days, but wasn't crazy on the writing style. It's told through split narratives which I'm always wary of and also had some sections that I really didn't like (the portraits of a man sections if you've read it). Overall felt there was too much going on and it was all a little cliched. The art saved it for me though.
October 16, 2016
Some of my favorite books are about artists and the fine arts. The all-consuming passion some people feel for their chosen profession, and the sacrifices they make in its name, is fascinating to me.
Raul is so passionate about his painting that he leaves Argentina and his beloved sister, a political activist who is facing the risk of "disappearing", for the exploding art scene of New York, where Keith Haring is drawing penises on subway trains. Lucy, midwestern bumpkin with no goals other than to be more than a midwestern bumpkin, is passionate about Raul. Art critic and synesthete James is passionate about art, and in particular Raul's art which sets his senses on fire.
Raul and James' passions are enabled by a wealthy patron and patient wife respectively, while lovelorn Lucy is pretty much on her own. The male genius trope hovers over the pages, but luckily there is more nuance than that to the story and characters. James and Raul grow - are forced to grow - during the tumultuos year of 1980. There is a shocking incident (I'm not easily shocked but I think I actually gasped) which changes the course of everybody's lives.
The language is a little flowery at times, and I don't think synesthesia actually works like it does for James, but those are my only quibbles. It is an engaging, if not terribly deep, story about an intriguing time and place, and a real pleasure to read.
Raul is so passionate about his painting that he leaves Argentina and his beloved sister, a political activist who is facing the risk of "disappearing", for the exploding art scene of New York, where Keith Haring is drawing penises on subway trains. Lucy, midwestern bumpkin with no goals other than to be more than a midwestern bumpkin, is passionate about Raul. Art critic and synesthete James is passionate about art, and in particular Raul's art which sets his senses on fire.
Raul and James' passions are enabled by a wealthy patron and patient wife respectively, while lovelorn Lucy is pretty much on her own. The male genius trope hovers over the pages, but luckily there is more nuance than that to the story and characters. James and Raul grow - are forced to grow - during the tumultuos year of 1980. There is a shocking incident (I'm not easily shocked but I think I actually gasped) which changes the course of everybody's lives.
The language is a little flowery at times, and I don't think synesthesia actually works like it does for James, but those are my only quibbles. It is an engaging, if not terribly deep, story about an intriguing time and place, and a real pleasure to read.
July 23, 2016
I didn't expect this to be a five star read for me. I loved the prologue, but didn't get into the meat of the book at first. There are just a handful of main characters here, all somehow involved in the New York art scene in 1980. The two main guys - an art critic who basically becomes famous because his synesthesia makes his reviews extraordinary and an Argentinian artist just about to make it big - were both interesting enough, but the whole thing came together for me when Idaho transplant Lucy came in as the third main character. Prentiss does a really fantastic job connecting the lives of her characters in a way that feels natural and believable, and I really couldn't wait to finish it. The women get a pretty raw deal here, but it rings completely true to these characters and their time and place.
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